


Spoken Desires

by LadyBrooke



Series: A Queen and Three Kings [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Breeding Kink, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Pony Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Fëanor was mistaken about the time for dinner with his brothers and Anairë following his release.Somehow, that led to Fingolfin and him doing this.
Relationships: Anairë/Fëanor | Curufinwë/Finarfin | Arafinwë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Series: A Queen and Three Kings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672861
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Spoken Desires

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a 100 words of bridles thread on FFA.

Fëanor took a sharp breath, freezing midstep.

Fingolfin was on all fours on the floor, completely nude except for a bridle and bit in his mouth, Anairë holding the reins as she stood next to him. Fingolfin's muscles were tense and bulging, though he was clearly enjoying himself.

Clearly, he had been mistaken about the time - or perhaps the date, Finarfin had told him they would all have dinner together this weekend when they had met following his release from the Halls. 

He should leave, he thought, even as he continued to stare at his brother and sister-in-law.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking back, he met Finarfin's smiling face.

"While we did not intend to invite you to join us this way, I am glad you do not seem offended." Finarfin stepped closer.

Fëanor blinked. "Invite me?"

"We desire you to join us in our bed now that your wife and mine are together," Finarfin said bluntly.

He had not known that Finarfin was in bed with the other two, though in hindsight many things made more sense with that information. 

Fëanor noted how close his brother was now, Finarfin's lips barely a hand width away from Fëanor's own lips. "Hardly just your bed, judging by this."

"Nolofinwë likes this sort of play," Finarfin said. "So do you, judging by your reaction. But you like other things as well, do you not?"

"I do not," Fëanor's voice rose in protest. Curse his half-brothers, he thought, looking at Finarfin's knowing eyes. However Finarfin had discovered such, he would prefer not to admit any of it. 

"You do," Finarfin said. "We would indulge such if you wish."

"You do not know of what you speak." Fëanor tried to pull his shoulder free, only for Finarfin's grip to tighten.

"I came to your house seeking Makalaurë one day when I was a boy," Finarfin said. "I looked through the house for him, and the house was empty except for you. And you were stretched across your bed, your eyes closed and a toy in your ass as you begged the air to be bred until you were with child. I know of what I speak, and again, I would have your desires fulfilled as much as is possible for us to do."

"Such is impossible, and what of your own desires?" Fëanor jerked his shoulder again, knowing Finarfin would continue to speak.

"Perhaps I wish to watch him take you." Finarfin's tone was slow - deliberate, Fëanor thought. Part of the game, speaking to him the same way Finarfin would speak to a startled horse in the stables. But also, he thought, part of Finarfin's loving attempt to make sure this was actually desired.

Fëanor took another breath and let himself fall against Finarfin's chest. His youngest half-brother would know what that meant.

Finarfin rubbed his hands over Fëanor's chest as he spoke. "You could be on all fours in front of him. We would have to prepare you first, of course. And then Nolofinwë could let himself go, mounting you like a stallion mounts a mare and taking you as Anairë and I watch our prizes breed and talk. Would you like that, Fëanáro?"

Fëanor took a breath. It was not what he imagined in the privacy of his own bedroom, but it was close. And Fingolfin was compelling.

Finarfin moved his hands lower, rubbing Fëanor's abdomen before moving downwards.

That made his decision for him. "I would."

"Good." Finarfin smiled, and moved his grip down to Fëanor's hand, pulling him further into the room.

Anairë glanced at them as they entered, before she turned her attention back to Fingolfin.

Fëanor swallowed, taking in the sight of the bridle again.

"I do not think we need such for you today," Finarfin said in response. "If you desired such, perhaps, but for now we will let her keep Nolo under control and you will be mine. And I shall let you be free so long as you allow Nolo to mount you."

Fëanor nodded. That was acceptable enough.

"If you wish to stop, say so and we will," Finarfin said.

"I do not." Fëanor took another breath.

Finarfin kissed him once, gentle, filling Fëanor's thoughts with nothing but certainty as their minds brushed against each other. When Fëanor could think of nothing else, Finarfin pulled back. "Remove your clothes and get on your hands and knees, looking away from Nolo."

Fëanor was tempted to look back, but did not. Instead, he removed his tunic, followed by his leggings and underwear. When finally he was nude, he dropped to all fours before Finarfin.

"Good, Náro, very good." Finarfin opened a vial of oil, pouring it onto his fingers as he spoke. "You will do well at this, and once Nolo has bred you, I shall enjoy the sight of you growing large and round. But first we must prepare you to receive Nolo's attentions."

Fëanor did not respond. Clearly, their game had begun, and even if he was not gagged with a bit as Fingolfin was, it would undermine it all to speak.

He could not stop himself from moving as Finarfin's fingers entered him, jerking his hips forward and then back.

"Whoa. Whoa, Náro," Finarfin said in that same calm voice as earlier. "Hold still."

Fëanor bit down on his lip, forcing himself to hold even as Finarfin ran a hand down his side. When finally he had stopped trembling, Finarfin resumed at a maddenly slow pace.

Finarfin did not speak again until he had finished and stood. "Bring Nolo closer, Anairë, Náro is ready to be bred."

Fëanor could not stop himself from making a noise at how he was described. Thankfully, the others ignored it, even as he could hear Fingolfin coming forward.

He dared not look behind him, only glancing to his side where Finarfin still stood and where Anairë had come to a stop, reins held loosely in her hand.

Everything was still for a moment.

And then, without warning, Fingolfin surged forward, cock entering Fëanor even as his weight pressed down on Fëanor's back.

Fëanor threw his head back, hitting Fingolfin's shoulder and letting out a whine, barely managing to keep back words.

Fingolfin did not pause his pace to allow Fëanor to adjust, driving his hips against Fëanor's ass.

Anairë and Finarfin were discussing them as they watched. Fëanor tried to pay attention to their words, only for Fingolfin to thrust again. Fëanor could barely keep himself balanced on all four limbs.

"If he keeps thrusting like that, there is little chance a pregnancy will not result," Anairë said.

Fëanor whined at those words, high and barely managing to twist it to sound more like a horse at the end. He had not expected Anairë to know, or for either of them to continue this discussion while he was being taken.

"If not, he will simply have to mount Náro again until it does. It is not like Nolo will protest such." Finarfin's words rose over Fëanor's whine.

Too much. That was all Fëanor could think as he came, somehow still remaining on all fours. It was too much, his desires revealed and discussed, them watching, Fingolfin still behind him taking him as though they were the animals they played at being.

Fingolfin was not done yet. Fëanor's arms strained as he kept himself upright.

He did not know what a mare would do, that had always been Fingolfin's passion, but he pushed himself back against the cock thrusting into him, hoping it would not break their play.

"Look how large Nolo is compared to Náro. Are you not concerned for your horse, Arafinwë?" Anairë asked.

"Náro can take him," Finarfin responded. That had not been a kink they discussed, and yet through the haze of lust and desperation Fëanor could see his youngest brother's knowing smile as he directed the praise, before Finarfin continued the conversation with Anairë. The discussion was something about foal growth that Fëanor did not bother to follow as he focused on Fingolfin again.

He had not even realized he was hard again and on the edge of tears until Fingolfin's mind brushed against his. Fingolfin desperation shown through, even as he asked, 'Do you need to stop?'

Fëanor let out a whine of frustration at that, mixed with a small amount of doubt about Anairë and Finarfin's reactions if they knew Fingolfin was speaking to him this way.

'It is fine,' Fingolfin thought back, clearly not as out of control as Fëanor had thought. 'They would not care, and I will not stop. But I need to come, and I worry I will-'

Fëanor did not bother with words, but sent all his lust and need and aggravation through their link.

He felt Fingolfin tense above him, warm breath against his neck, and heard Anairë and Finarfin quiet as though they knew a storm was coming.

And then Fingolfin thrust again, wild and desperate as Fëanor had not thought possible, a quick pace that left Fëanor with no time to even understand his own emotions. All he could do was feel, feel his brother above and behind him, his brother's cock moving inside him wildly, and the floor beneath him that he was being driven into.

He came again, unable to keep his head from falling forward, but it was fine now. Fingolfin came as well, filling him even as Anairë and Finarfin began to speak again of the chances of success.

Fëanor knew he could not keep himself upright for much longer.

But that was fine, Anairë pulling Fingolfin away with the reins he had forgotten were still attached and then pulling him to his knees even as Finarfin was supporting Fëanor as he slumped towards the floor.

It was quiet in the room for a moment.

"Are you well?" Finarfin asked, looking Fëanor in the eyes.

"Yes." Now that it was over, Fëanor could not help but wonder if they were merely indulging his desires. It would be like Finarfin, at the least.

Anairë glanced over at the terse reply. "You and Nolofinwë are too much alike, I think."

Before Fëanor could reply, Fingolfin interrupted, laughing. "Or perhaps you and Arafinwë are just too alike, knowing everything and indulging desires."

"Nolofinwë," Finarfin whispered in Fëanor's ear as they watched the other two joke, "still struggles with admitting what he wants. But Anairë and I enjoy ourselves, and we enjoy the sight of you two enjoying yourselves."

Fëanor opened his mouth to argue, but Finarfin grabbed his hand first. He trailed their combined hands over the front of his leggings, tracing the outline of his arousal.

"Come to our bedroom. Anairë and I shall prove to you how aroused watching has made us," Finarfin said.

"Yes," Fëanor repeated, more content now. "I should like to see that."

Finarfin smiled as he dragged his oldest brother to his feet and then to the bedroom, Anairë and Fingolfin following.


End file.
